


Pirates -SH

by Writer_Of_Life



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 23:49:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,807
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Writer_Of_Life/pseuds/Writer_Of_Life
Summary: Sherlock needs a break from his nephews. Where was John anyway? An old map gives him the perfect distraction.





	Pirates -SH

“If you two don't shut it, I think I am going to go insane,” Sherlock pressed his palms against his eyes and took a deep breath.  
For a blissful second there was complete silence, but it was quickly drowned out by another round of laughter. Then, the squeak of the sofa and the loud crash of something in the kitchen breaking.  
“Boys!” Sherlock felt the word leave him a little more harshly than he had anticipated, but it apparently achieved his goal of making the identical (to everyone but Sherlock) six-year-old blonde menaces come to a halt in a wrestling heap on the floor. “Please.”  
At once the boys knew this must be a serious matter because one, the voice of the man in front of them was rarely raised, and even when it did, it certainly wasn't followed by a “please.”  
Cautiously, the boys stood, attempted to control their laughter and waited for further instructions. Their sister had left them at 221B Baker Street almost three hours ago with the promise of a reward if they behaved like proper gentlemen. A promise she knew should would never have to keep.  
Sherlock eyed the boys, which brought nearly a dozen deductions blazing to the surface.  
Jack was having trouble sleeping again. Nightmares. He would have John speak to him, comfort him. And his twin, who stood tall against his uncle's open stare, was hiding the latest marks left by the school ground bully. He would speak to Mycroft later about not paying enough attention to his children. The signs were blatant and inexcusably missed.  
“Sorry, Uncle Lock,” William spoke first. He always spoke first, Sherlock noted. He was quickly becoming the protector of his shy sibling. Good. That meant that William had seen the signs of Jack's stress and modified his behavior to keep his priorities straight. Although it was probably the reason for the bully bruises on his wrists as well. Brothers protect brothers, a trait he gained from his father, apparently.  
“It's fine, William. I'm just a little busy at the moment and John isn't here to keep you entertained as usual,” He frowned. John's absence had been wearing on him for hours now. When would he bloody well come home already. His shift at the surgery ended nearly an hour ago. “Why did Rose leave you here anyway?”  
Jack, who finally felt comfortable enough to respond, leapt forward in order to answer before his brother.  
“She went to meet her boyfriend,” His little face twisted into a sure sign of disgust before he continued. “But, he's boring. All he wants to do is kiss her and hold her hand.”  
William stuck his tongue out at the last part of his brother's comment. “Yuck!”  
Sherlock chuckled quietly and nodded.  
“Does your father know?” A stupid question, he realized a moment too late. Of course Mycroft didn't know.  
But the boys had had enough conversation and had returned to the floor in a laughter-filled brawl that left Sherlock scowling. The noise would return soon and that was bad for brain work. He had to think of something to distract the boys until John could come home and save him.  
Maybe he should tell them about his latest case, a seeming murder-suicide that turned deliciously into an international fugitive who attempted to cover his tracks by going on a short killing spree. It took him almost a week to put together all of the pieces. It was wonderful. But, telling the boys such a story would probably land him in a heap of trouble with both John and Mycroft. So, something else.  
His eyes dragged around the flat until something neatly folded beside the bookcase caught his eye. That would do nicely.  
He moved slowly, so not to alert the boys to his discovery. Once the object was in hand, he made his way to the sofa, gently pulling William off of Jack and tossing him gently into the cushions. Jack laughed and was rewarded with his own tossing into the soft pillows beside his brother.  
“Now, boys, what do you say to a story?” Sherlock watched as their eyes widened in anticipation. It was then that he gently unfolded the old map, once used by the Royal British Navy to hunt down pirates. It's charred edges and moth holes made it seem more mysterious than it actually was, but it was all the better for the boys. “An adventure on the high seas, filled with danger and treasure.”  
Leaning closer, the boys framed themselves on either side of their uncle and ran their fingers over the aged map, taking in all the detail their little minds would allow.  
“Will there be a damsel in distress?” William asked excitedly, but before Sherlock could answer, Jack jumped in. “Oh! I'm sure there will be loads of sword fights!”  
Sherlock felt his mouth twist into a gentle smile.  
“You will just have to wait and see. Now, our story begins in Old London with two boys who wanted nothing more than to sail the seven seas.”

An hour later, John managed to climb the stairs and push open the door to the flat with his foot, mumbling a “No, thank you, I've got it” to the empty room.  
Having quickly put away the shopping, John began to notice that the flat was just a little too quiet for his liking. He knew Rose dropped the boys off before she went off for her date and had expected Sherlock to have the twins dangling from the windows by now. Instead, he was welcomed home with silence and that worried him.  
Sherlock's coat still hung on the rack beside the door and there was no sign of a skirmish in the flat. So, where were Sherlock and the boys?  
“Sherlock!?” John called out for his flatmate. No answer. Perhaps a little louder then. “Sherlock, where are you?!”  
Suddenly there was a hand over his mouth and a deep baritone in his ear, “Do shut up, John.”  
Shuffling forward, John stepped out of Sherlock's embrace. “Christ, Sherlock, you scared me.”  
Sherlock shrugged and turned to go. “Where have you been anyway? You were out of surgery two and a half hours ago.”  
John smiled at the thought of how close Sherlock kept tabs on him since he had returned from his fall. He didn't like to be away from John anymore, and John didn't mind that at all.  
“I had to do the shopping and catching a bloody cab was ridiculous. I walked almost halfway here before I managed to hail one down,” John sighed. He was weary and couldn't wait to crawl under the covers of his nice, warm bed. Speaking of being able to go to sleep, where were the twins. He would have to ensure that they were bathed, fed, and comfortable on their pallets before he could even think about sleep.  
“Where are the boys?” John asked. “They must be starving by now.”  
Sherlock smirked, “The have been fed and put to bed.”  
John felt his eyes widen in shock. “What? You fed the boys and put them to bed?” He couldn't believe it. Sherlock barely lifted a finger when Mycroft asked them to watch the children over night. John had to do everything from changing the channel to tucking them in. Once they were cozy, Sherlock would pause briefly to ensure them that they would stay quiet and not wake him without a life altering reason. And if John could be found, not even then. He would then swoop down and place a gentle kiss on each of the boy's heads followed by a very quiet, “I love you.”  
John always had to hide his smile at that last part because if Sherlock ever noticed that John noticed, he may not do it again out of spite. But, then again, he probably wouldn't. Sherlock had grown up with a startling lack of use of that phrase, and it was clear to John that he would not allow such a thing to happen to his only nephews.  
Sherlock must have noticed the far away look in John's eye because he waited a few moments before answering.  
“Yes, John. I fed them two of those horrible oven meals, then carried them to bed,” He turned to take his seat in the living room.  
“OK, good,” John smiled. “Wait, where did you put them to bed? I don't see their pallets.”  
It was then that Sherlock had to fight to withhold his smirk, “Oh, I put them in your bed, John. I thought they would be more comfortable than on the floor. Plus, I hate having to wait for them to wake up before being able to continue my experiments in the morning.”  
John felt his shoulders slump. That meant he would be attempting to get a decent night's sleep on the sofa before his 12-hour shift at the surgery tomorrow. Just great. But, he couldn't bring himself to be upset at Sherlock because for once, he had thought of the boys before himself. Well, kind of.  
“Oh, OK. That's good thinking Sherlock. I'm sure the boys will appreciate it,” John allowed a quiet sigh to escape his lips before deciding that a nice cuppa would do before he made up the sofa to sleep.  
“So,” Sherlock halted him with his words. “I guess that means you will have to share a bed with me tonight. Sorry for the inconvenience, but the sofa isn't really good for any of us to sleep on. I'll keep on my side, I promise.”  
Sleep with Sherlock? How could he say no to that. It was an offer he had been wanting to hear since after their first case. He wasn't quiet sure if “love” was the proper word to use quite yet, but it was getting there quickly. And maybe, just maybe, this little move on Sherlock's part was his way of telling John that he wouldn't mind a change in their relationship either, but that would have to be put aside to be thought on another day.  
“Thanks, Sherlock. I appreciate it. That sofa would have killed my shoulder,” He smiled, even as he tried to hide it. “But, you don't have to stay on your side if you don't want to.”  
Sherlock openly grinned at that comment and pulled his legs up into his chair with him, steeping his fingers under his chin.  
After the kettle was put on to boil, John turned to Sherlock to answer the final question he felt lingering in his mind of the night's events.  
“Sherlock, how did you get the boys to go to bed so easily? Usually it is a knock-down-drag-out just to get them into their night clothes.”  
Sherlock smiled at John and opened the old map for him to see.  
“Pirates, John.”

**Author's Note:**

> I know some fans may not like the nephews, but they just came with the story. sorry in advance.


End file.
